Kissing Instructions
by jumptheshark
Summary: Bella Swan meets Edward Cullen in a bar and falls for him, literally. But he has a reputation. Can she stop herself thinking about him?
1. Chapter 1

Characters property of SM. This story was beta'd by princess-serenity-324

Kissing Instructions

- 1 -

It's my first year at med school, second semester, and jeeze, the work is hard. Well, not hard exactly, more like relentless. There's an avalanche of reading to do, and there are constant 're given assignment after assignment, all due in yesterday, and there's no time whatsoever for a life. I love reading, but I didn't think I'd be casting my eyes over nothing but medical texts for the next forever. If I so much as looked at the cover of a novel I would flunk right out of school within the next second.

The people around me seem to fit in social lives, and I just don't understand. I can only assume they're all repeating, that they already did this year last year, and that gives them the leeway to spend precious time on a social life, or a cultural life, or a life of the mind. I'd settle for five minutes on the sofa not having to think about biochemistry.

My room-mate Alice, is a case in point. I am not slow, if I was I wouldn't be here, but how can she have finished her homework before me tonight? I've been staring at it until my eyeballs want to turn inside out.

"Bella, there's an open-mic night at the Exchange - are you coming?" she calls, breaking my concentration.

She is such a socialite, and a fashionista, that she attends every function held by every group on campus, and looks dynamite at all of them. Her family must be millionaires, because she has more possessions than anyone I've ever met. Mostly clothes. She's lovely, and we get along very well, but I don't know where her inexhaustible energy comes from. One of these days, once I can decipher what I see on a microscope slide, I'm going to ask for a blood sample and analyze it, and then I'm going to ask for a transfusion, and just for one night, I will have the joie de vivre of Alice Cullen.

"Alice, I haven't finished this assignment yet, and it's due in first thing Monday morning," I answer.

"Yes, Bella, _Monday morning_. That gives you all weekend to work on it," she responds.

"I'm going home to see Dad this weekend," I remind her.

"Bella, darling," she begins, coming up to where I'm sitting at my desk. She puts her arms around me from behind. "How many words is it? You've done your outline, right? It's not going to take you long to finish it. Take a night off, honey - you work really hard. Give yourself a break. Everyone takes Friday night off."

She looks adorable, she always does. She is ridiculously pretty, and has a trick with her hair of making it stick straight out which may sound unappealing, but it suits her quirky personality, and quick way of thinking and speaking. I only met her this year, but I feel as though I've always known her, and I treasure her friendship.

I sigh and lean back against her, and acquiesce.

"I suppose I could do with a distraction," I murmur. "I'll throw on a clean t-shirt and be with you in five."

"A clean t-shirt Bella? Is that all you're going to do?" Alice squeaks. I am breaking her dress code. You don't go _out_ in jeans and t-shirts. Alice probably wouldn't even dress in such a way if no-one could see her. Tonight she is in a silver strappy number and she looks like she's going to the Oscars.

"Bella, you need to put something nice on. There will be _boys_ there," she says sternly.

"Oh, I just changed my mind, I'm staying in," I say hastily, but she's rummaging in my closet sighing and tut-tutting loudly, and I'm not going to get away with it. I don't have time for boys. I don't even have time to cut my fingernails - what would I do with a boy?

"Ah, this will have to do. Honestly Bella, I don't know how you survived before I turned up," she says, pulling my one and only dress out on its hanger. It's midnight blue, and just below knee-length, and I bought it for my senior prom, which is the one and only time I have every worn it. It's lovely, but, "Don't you think I'll be a little overdressed?" I say anxiously.

Alice never looks overdressed, in fact she has the ability to make everybody else look _under-_dressed. She shakes her head at me. "You'll be _noticeable_. It's high time."

I get the dress on, and she applies makeup for me, and I check myself out in the mirror.

"Absolutely lovely, Bella Swan - why don't you go around looking like that every day?" Alice purrs approvingly.

"Because it's not practical student wear?" I offer, lamely.

I have to admit, Alice has somehow made me look pretty, which is quite a feat as I have a very ordinary face. She has achieved something special with my hair as well, making it seem thicker and tousled and tumbling.

The Exchange is only a block from our dorm, so it's a five minute walk, and the evening is warm. We stroll along chatting, and something suddenly occurs to me.

"Alice, when you mentioned there'll be boys there tonight, are you thinking of anyone in particular? Are you meeting someone?"

"Maybe," Alice's lips curve up in a grin.

"Alice Cullen, you tell me right now! Or I'll, I'll, I don't know what I'll do but I'll think of something and you'll wish I hadn't!" I threaten.

"Oh, Bella, I couldn't keep a secret from you anyway. Yes, there is someone, actually. He's a friend of my brother's. His name is Jasper, and he's so gorgeous I just want to eat him, and he said he's going to be there tonight. He plays guitar and sings, and he's going to do an item. I said I'd come along and throw a rose up on stage during his act."

"But Alice, you don't have a rose."

"No, I figured I'd throw myself," she chirps happily.

She's never mentioned an interest in anyone before, so I'm intrigued. This Jasper must be pretty special.

We get in there, and it's dark, and straightaway, I have a mishap. There is a step which of course I couldn't see, and I'm wearing silly high-heeled sandals which normally I wouldn't be caught dead in, and I miss my footing. The only thing that stops me crashing in a heap to the floor is that I knock someone else to a heap on the floor and land on them.

A pair of arms go around me, and a male voice grunts.

Now, I've been spatially challenged since childhood, and sometimes I like to amuse myself by counting how many humiliating mishaps I can have during the course of an evening. This is obviously going to be one of those nights.

I go to stand up, but I seem to have become entangled in this other person, and as I try to gather my wits he says, "That's a very novel approach. Most women trying to pick me up start with hello."

"I am not trying to pick you up, whoever you are!" I retort, as he helps me to stand. "In fact, I believe you've just picked _me_ up!"

Now that we're not both at carpet-level I see his face, and he's grinning at me. I'm struck dumb, because I think he may be the best-looking man in North America. If I'd seen him first I would never have opened my big mouth to say something so cheeky, I would have scuttled off and hidden under a piece of furniture.

"May I introduce myself?" he asks. "I'm Edward. And you would be - ?"

"Pleased to meet you, and sorry I knocked you down, amongst other things," I say in a panic, looking for Alice. She has disappeared into the depths of the bar, presumably unaware that I'm making a fool of myself just inside the door. Even in these high heels Alice persuaded me to wear he is a lot taller than me, and I can't really see his coloring in here, but he's pale, and his hair is dark, and looks like he was dragged through a hedge. Maybe he had an immaculate hairdo and I made a mess of it when I crashed into him and sent him flying!

"I'm sorry about your hair," I tell him, and I set off to look for Alice. I don't get far, because he puts a hand on my arm.

"What about my hair?" he says, looking puzzled.

"Well, it's a mess," I point out.

He frowns. "I spend a lot of time getting it to look like this," he says, and I feel like a fool.

"Oh, ignore me. I'm still sorry about your hair, but now it's for a different reason, it's because I maligned your painstaking and elaborate construction," I say.

"Are you okay?" he asks, hand still on my arm. "Do you need to sit down? My friends and I have a table."

"I'm always like this," I assure him. "I fall down, and I say weird things. Don't worry about it. I study neuroscience. When I qualify I'm going to extract my own brain and sort out the speech centre, you know, and fix the balance problem with my middle ear. Everything will be fine then, I'll be normal."

"That might be a shame," he says, and I really need to get out of there before I fall over again, and say even weirder things.

Once I find Alice, I see she is deep in conversation with a tall fair-haired boy, and I would definitely be a third wheel if I tried to join in. He is bending down to her to listen, and their bodies are turned in to each other so this is a positive sign, showing that he must be keen.

I'm really happy for her, but I'm also standing there wondering what to do with myself, and I decide to go to the bar. Vodka would go down nicely right now. Drink in hand I'm still standing awkwardly when Alice looks up and comes straight over.

"Bella, come on, meet Jasper, say hello before he has to go onstage, he's first up tonight," she urges, and she introduces us. There is something calming about him immediately, even though I had been feeling slightly crazed after my encounter with Edward Hairman, and then nervous about standing by myself at the bar.

Jasper has a beautiful, almost feminine face, and he and Alice make a stunning couple. I hope he likes her - when she spoke about him on the way here there was nothing casual in her voice, it was all excitement and anticipation, and she certainly deserves to be loved.

There are one or two empty tables left and Alice and I find one and sit down, just as Jasper starts. I've never been to one of these nights before, but apparently it's a competition, and the contestants sing three songs, and at the end of the night there's a vote, and the winner is invited back next week as the reigning champion.

Jasper's voice is strong and tuneful, and he's a very good guitar player. His songs are a little bluesy, and he's got great stage presence, being laid back and smiley, and he engages with the audience. Either he has a lot of friends here, or the audience really like him, as the applause is verging on tumultuous.

He comes back to sit with us and we watch some more performances, but for my money, he's the clear winner so far. Then the mc announces the defending champion, and to my extreme surprise, it's Edward, the boy I ended up on top of on the way in.

"Here we go, my arch rival," Jasper says with a smile, and he sits back in his chair crossing his legs and looking as though he doesn't have a care on the world.

He should, though, because Edward is very good. He's every bit as good as Jasper, although stylistically they're very different. His voice has this kind of lazy vibe, like he slides off notes wearily, and he sounds older than he looks.

Jasper looked outwards as he played, Edward looks inwards. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, and his hair falls forward, and the equilibrium I had attained disappears.

I go to the bathroom halfway through the first song and stay there, because he's gorgeous and a great singer and I'm allergic to having crushes on boys. I burst into rashes, and develop speech impediments and hyperhidrosis and my general klutziness intensifies to the point I appear to have an ankle-twisting disorder and butter-finger syndrome.

Luckily, this doesn't happen often since I don't seem to meet many boys I get crazy about. After what I judge must have been long enough I emerge from the ladies only to find that I bump straight into someone, and it's the same someone I already knocked to the ground once tonight.

"Oh, hello mystery girl - you didn't just miss my set, did you?" he asks.

"No, no, I caught it, absolutely. You're great. Better than great. You should come first, at the very least," I nod.

"Are you going to vote for me?" he asks, standing closer.

"Are you allowed to solicit votes? Is that in the rules?" I say. "It goes against the democratic grain."

"I'm not corrupt, if that's what you're implying. Vote for whoever you like. I wouldn't dream of soliciting votes, or buying them, for that matter. But may I buy you a drink?" he says.

A combination of dim lighting and Alice's magic with makeup is working for me tonight, because I think he is flirting with me.

"No," I say, as I only ever buy my own drinks.

We go back into the main room, and he walks me back to the table I've been sitting at with Alice and Jasper, and Jasper says to him, "May the best man win," and Alice must have gone to the bar or somewhere because she's not there, and Edward goes off wherever he goes, and I sit back down with Jasper.

"I enjoyed your songs, and I love your voice," I say to him, and he's charming and thanks me, and I really think he has some kind of feel good mojo that cheers people up, because once again, I was starting to feel a little vertigo, caused undoubtedly by the absolutely unfair attractiveness of that Edward. Being around Jasper means I can breathe without having palpitations.

Someone comes around handing out little pieces of paper and asks us to indicate our preference out of all the acts that appeared tonight, and I have to admit I voted for Jasper and after a while the MC takes to the stage to announce the winner.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you've had as good a night as we have, the performers have all been stellar, and tonight the kudos goes once again to our resident King of the Strings, the Voice of Choice - Edward!" he yells.

The audience erupts, Jasper shrugs, Alice leans over and hugs him and I applaud half-heartedly because I think I'm meant to, and then I drink the rest of my vodka, by now my second, and take bets with myself on whether Alice is coming back with me tonight or not. My practical brain says of course she is, she's a student, she's going to come home and read a textbook, my intuitive brain says of course she isn't, look at the two of them, she's going off with that boy and they'll boink their lights out.

I guess my intuitive brain has won, when Alice comes over to me and says, "We'll walk you home, Bella, and then I'm going with Jasper. I'm just going to the bathroom now and we'll meet you at the front door."

"Oh, Alice, it's only a block, I'll be fine, but okay, yes, your Jasper's looking really into you, call me tomorrow," I say, and she smiles a smile of true happiness, linking her arm with his, and they both head off to the bathrooms, while I ponder the journey home and wonder if I'll make it without breaking a leg in front of Jasper and needing to be accompanied to hospital. I only have a block to negotiate in my sandals, and I didn't step in a crack and break a leg on the way here, so I'll be fine, right?

As I'm just about to walk through the door there's a voice at my shoulder, a deep voice, slightly husky, saying, "You haven't told me your name."

I look over my shoulder at Edward. I can't think why he would want to know.

"My name is Bella," I tell him.

"Where do you live, Bella? And how are you getting home?" he asks.

"I live in Phnom Penh, and I'm teleporting," I answer.

"I'll see you home," he says. This may be a gentlemanly act, but my danger detector goes off, and it's ringing loudly. Why would he want to see me home?

"That's really not necessary, I have a titanium carbon-fiber protective epidermal covering and I'm trained in every known discipline of unarmed combat," I tell him.

"I'm sure you are, somehow I don't doubt it. You seem to have a boy-deflector shield as well, but I'll still see you to your car," he says.

At that moment, Alice and Jasper reappear, and Jasper says, "Next week, Eddie-boy, you and me to the death," and Edward grins at him, and then to my amazement, he says to Alice, "Go easy on my friend, you demented hobbit," and she smirks, "Oh, dear brother, I'm not going to go easy at all, I'm going to go hard."

I verbally flagellate Alice all the way home.

"You didn't tell me you had a brother!"

"Yes, I did," she says.

"You didn't tell me _Edward_ was your brother!" I say.

"Why would I? You didn't know him!" she answers.

"Well, well - " I splutter.

We're at the door of our building now, and Alice pulls me to one side.

"Bella, you know how that place is called The Exchange?" she says. "Have you heard the story in circulation explaining the name? People say it's called that because of the reputation of a certain person who frequents it. A certain third year med student who makes conquests in there. A certain person who usually leaves with a different girl to the one he arrived with. He uses it as his personal girl swap-shop. And Bella, I'm very sorry to say, that certain person is my brother, the snake, Edward Cullen."

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	2. Chapter 2

Dear Readers, I don't own any of these characters, no copyright infringement is intended and I made the whole thing up.

Kissing Instructions

- 2 -

All weekend I'm thinking about Alice's brother, the snake, Edward Cullen. I'm staying with my dad Charlie, who is a police chief, and I'm wondering if there's a law proscribing snake-like activity, and if there are behavior-modification programs for the slinky reptiles.

Probably not, and I'm doomed.

I don't actually ask Charlie, of course. I finish my assignment, and Alice was right, I needn't have been so uptight about it, it didn't take long. I just like to think I have things under control, although that's such a fallacy.

Sunday night, I'm back in our shared room, and so is the demented hobbit.

"How was your weekend?" I ask her, and the look on her face is comprised of about seventeen different emotions, amongst which desire and excitement feature prominently.

"Oh, Bella, I'm so _happy_," she enthuses. "Jasper is wonderful."

"Is he going to be in that sing-a-long thing again this week?" I ask, casually.

"Oh yeah, I think he and Edward have this ongoing pistols-at-dawn duel situation happening. They've been doing it for weeks. They're about even in terms of who wins - it just depends which way the audience swings on any given night. Do you want to come again with me this Friday?" she asks.

Do I? Ah, yes?

I haven't worked out how I feel about Edward, because I don't have enough information. The scant amount of information I do have places me on red alert, but if there's a chance I'll see him on Friday, that will help. If I do see him I'm not quite sure what I'll do though, because from what Alice said he is a 'hooking-up' person, and I am not.

By Thursday, I have a plan. I have no idea what I hope to achieve, but that's beside the point. Who cares about outcomes? Isn't it all about the execution? As long as it's not my own...

On Friday, Alice and I are getting ready, and she is really deploring my lack of wardrobe. She insists I can't wear what I wore last week, and as she is six inches shorter than me, I can't borrow anything of hers. Or can I? I end up in a dress that is knee length on her, and scandalous on me. Edward Exchange-Boy Cullen, look out. She weaves her magic on my face and hair again and I look bemusedly at the alluring creature in the mirror.

"You have a gift, Alice," I beam at her, and she beams back.

The Exchange is fuller tonight than last week, and I suffer a little anxiety as we go in. What if Edward's not there? Actually, if he's not there, that will be fine. What will be difficult will be if he _is_ there, and our little plan doesn't work, although it should - I've bribed enough people. Even Jasper is in on it, and Alice said he laughed his head off when she told him.

The night starts, and a couple of performers go through their routines, and they're good, but most of the people know it's a two-horse race, or actually…it's _usually_ a two-horse race. Tonight there's going to be a difference.

Edward is there, and he comes over to me, and it's dark so he can't see me all that well, but he says, "Hello Bella, are you falling for me tonight?" in a silky, sexy voice, and I say, "That depends on whether there are lumps under the carpet," and smile sweetly, and he says, "Are you planning to spend my set in the bathroom?" and I say, "That depends on the call of nature," and he says, "May I buy you a drink?" and I say, "No, thanks."

He's up before Jasper tonight, and he sings beautifully, so borne away by the lyrics that he barely enunciates them and I think the song may be called Let Me Sign, but I can't be sure. He sings two more, and seems transported by them, he holds the audience in his hands, and it's a very powerful performance.

It seems to take him a while to return to earth afterwards, but he comes to our table, and sits with me and Alice and Jasper, and Jasper pats him on the shoulder and says "Nice try, bro. Too bad you were born to lose."

After another couple of singers Jasper's up, and he does really well, his open smile a direct contrast to Edward's absorption. Alice and I are both really excited, on the edges of our chairs, especially me, because my time is approaching and the devious little plan I concocted is about to come to fruition.

Two more people play, and then the MC announces the final act.

There's something I didn't tell Alice about until last week, because it didn't seem relevant right at the moment, because I'm so busy with study there aren't really any gaps to fit in other things that have been interests in my life, but the fact is I play the guitar, and write songs, and sing. And another fact is that I have entered this competition, and I have rounded up half a dozen people to come along and vote for me tonight. I'm not soliciting votes - I've brought them with me, which anyone is free to do.

The mc says my name, and I just have a moment to catch the look of disbelief and astonishment on Edward's face before I get up and go onstage. Jasper is openly laughing, although he stops laughing when I start to sing. My voice isn't amazing, it's nothing special really, but it's okay - it's a little husky, and I know what suits it, and I sing my three very best songs.

I've sung in front of my Mom and her husband loads of times, and I've sung for Charlie, so even though I'm not used to much of an audience I'm not totally uncomfortable, and I know I'm doing pretty well. When I finish there's a whole lot of cheering and whistling, courtesy of the rent-a-crowd I persuaded to come along, and I go back to the table and sit down next to an incredulous Edward.

"You didn't tell me you'd be a contender for the crown," he hisses.

I shrug, as the voting slips come around. I win. I am the total, utter, clear, indisputable victor, breaking Edward's winning streak.

"I want to talk to you, missy," he says, with a kind of a dangerous look. I'm on my third vodka now, so I don't care.

He corners me at the back of the room, near the door out to the bathrooms.

"Do you know it's customary to kiss the winner?" he says. "I let you off last week, but this week I really feel, as outgoing champion, I must offer you my most sincere congratulations..."

"That's funny, because I didn't notice you and Jasper enjoying a celebratory smooch last week," I say, but I'm in the corner, he's very tall, and he puts his hands on the wall on either side of me.

"You planned this, didn't you? You stacked the vote," he says. "The question is, why? Are you trying to get my attention? You already had it," and he bends closer.

"Are you aware of the recently published results of the Washington Institute of Medical and Social Sciences study on kissing?" I ask him. Even in the dark, I see his eyes narrow.

"What are you talking about?" he says.

"Oh, it's the first scientific survey that has ever been done on kissing. They interviewed 3000 men and women over a two year period and asked them for their thoughts on the subject, and the findings have been very interesting."

"Is that so?" Edward drawls, clearly wondering what tangent I'm going off on.

"Did you know, for instance, that men and women have clear and marked preferences, and that they're not the same? Women think men get it completely wrong," I announce, and he's not looking anywhere near so confident or intent now.

"Women decide within eleven seconds whether they want to sleep with a man or not, based on his kiss. They judge it on pressure, amount of saliva, taste, odor, and tongue involvement."

He's completely stopped now, and is looking at me very warily. "Well, I've never had any complaints," he says, but he's not looking happy.

"You're all right then, aren't you?" I say, feeling a little smug.

"If men are getting it wrong, the converse must also be true," he points out then, still watching me very closely. "Women are getting it wrong, too."

"Maybe they are, but the findings suggest that kissing is more important to women, and they'll drop men who are lousy kissers, whereas men don't tend to use it as a criterion to judge who they want to go to bed with."

I am feeling totally triumphant now. I've taken the wind right out of his sails, and managed to wipe the smirk off his face at the same time. Having said that, I'm kind of hoping he won't completely back down, though. I'm actually hoping he won't be a wimp, but he shakes his head, and steps back from me.

"I wasn't asking you to sleep with me, it was just going to be a peck on the cheek," he says "You didn't have to read me the kissing manifesto."

"Of course not," I say smoothly. "But it's interesting though, isn't it?"

"Will you be back next week, to defend your dubiously-won position?" he asks, deftly changing the subject.

"Oh, I might just quit while I'm ahead," I say, and we're heading towards the door now, where I'm figuring I'll meet up with Alice and Jasper.

"That would be cowardly. I demand a rematch," he says, with his hand on the back of my waist.

It feels proprietary, and I don't know why he should be touching me like that. I'm disappointed that he didn't proceed with the so-called congratulatory kiss, but the hand on my back isn't an indication of wimpishness - maybe he's got something else in mind? I have no idea what it could be, but once we meet up with the other two, I find that he's not finished with me yet.

"I'll walk Bella home," he says to them, and I flash Alice a quick glance of alarm that she doesn't see, as she is gazing so blissfully at her beautiful boy.

"Ok Ed, I'm sure you'll behave yourself. One block isn't enough to get up to mischief, even for you," she giggles, although she is so wrong. "Bella, if he's naughty, let me know, and I'll tell Mom. She'll send him to bed without dessert for a week. Did you hear me Edward? A _whole week_."

We get outside and Jasper and Alice head in one direction, and Edward and I in another. After about one minute he says, "Bella, is that a dress you're wearing tonight, or a handkerchief?"

"It's a _dress_, Edward," I answer, head turned away so he can't see me blush. My heightened color might not show under the streetlights anyway, but I'm not taking the chance. "An item of apparel. A handkerchief is something you could fold up and put in your pocket."

"I think I could fold that dress up and put it in my pocket," he drawls.

"Well, you wouldn't though," I begin. I'm about to say something I might regret.

"Because that would leave me standing here in my underwear. And that would look ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

"Mmm, actually I don't think so," he answers.

I have no idea what game I'm playing, but we're at the door to my building now, thank goodness, so I have to stop.

"Thank you so much for escorting me," I say, turning to him, and catching my heel on an uneven bit of paving stone. I stagger into him.

"You're angling for that kiss after all, aren't you Ms Swan?" he asks, and after I've shaken my head to clear the cloud of my hair from my face, I look up at him. He was sounding smug, but he's not looking smug. No sir, he's looking sexier than anybody should be decently allowed to. I must ask Charlie what the law is with regard to snakes looking sexy.

"No, it's my knee. I have a knee problem," I say, pulling away.

"I could have a look at that for you. Trust me, I'm a medical student," he says, and the smirk is back.

"Actually, it's not my knee. It's my sandal. Are you a cobbler, too?" I ask.

"I'm happy to look at your knee and your sandal, but you'll have to invite me in, Bella," he says. "And you must know a medical practitioner can only carry out a detailed and careful examination of the patella if the patient is lying down."

"That is spurious and absurd. You are a fraud. Be gone," I say imperiously, and he laughs.

"Till next week, Bella. And I'm warning you, there'll be no holds barred," he says.

"All guns blazing. Damn straight," I nod, and I go inside. By myself.

On Saturday morning Alice turns up, somewhat earlier earlier than I was expecting her, and insists on taking me shopping.

"Your wardrobe is dire. I'm on a humanitarian aid mission," she states as I shake my head.

"Alice, I can't afford to go buying new clothes right now," I grumble.

"I'm buying them for you," she says.

"You can't buy me clothes! People will talk," I say.

"They're already talking. About your lack of clothes," she giggles, and I'm protesting all the way, but my reluctance falls on deaf ears. Of course we disagree completely about the style of the dresses she picks, and the price of them, but I am absolutely adamant there will be no gratuitous displays of flesh, and nothing so obscenely expensive that the money it cost could feed an entire African nation for a year.

She enthuses, I mutter, she whines, I refuse, she pleads, I insist, and we have a really, really fun girly day, although by the evening somehow she has spent what she considers peanuts on me, and what I consider a king's ransom.

"Come out with me and Jasper tonight. My brother's coming. My _other_ brother, Emmett," she invites. "And his girlfriend, Rosalie."

"Uh, I was going to go and cook Charlie's dinner," I tell her.

"Your father can open a can of beans just for tonight," she says, so I let him know the good news.

"I'm not _helpless_, Bella," he says chuckling. "I just pretend I am so you'll keep visiting. Have fun tonight with your friends."

I obey him to the letter, and have a hilarious night. The third Cullen is as attractive as both of the others, and his girlfriend is stratospherically gorgeous. These people took the luckiest plunge into the gene pool of anybody I have ever met, and I feel like a sparrow tagging along with birds of paradise, but they're all as nice as each other except Rosalie, who turns out to be a prize bitch.

She keeps her claws out of me, though, only using them to slice everyone else to ribbons, but they all deflect her acid remarks with an ease born of practice and affection, and Emmett clearly adores her. We go to a club, and the night goes late, as they all have Alice's stamina, and appetite for fun. I'm exhausted while they remain in party mode.

"I really need to get going," I tell Alice at two o'clock, which is half an hour after the last time I told her, which was half an hour after the first time.

"Okay, Bella, Jazz will see you to a cab, and I'll be home tomorrow," she says, and I stumble outside on Jasper's arm.

"Well, who do we have here?" a voice asks when we reach the pavement, and I know without a moment's uncertainty who that voice belongs to.

"I'll take over, Jazz," he says, and transfers my clutching hand from Jasper's arm to his own. It is course, Edward.

"Hello, Edwin," I say, not very cleverly.

"Have you had another fall and sustained brain damage?" he asks. "You know that's not my name."

"Vodka," I say.

"Do you mean you've had some vodka, or you'd like some vodka?" he asks.

"Quite clearly I've already had some, a lot. I'm drunk. Who knew potatoes had so much alcohol in them?" I mumble. "Nobody told me."

"Vodka is more frequently made from grains than potatoes. How much have you had to drink? Bella, I'm taking you home, and Alice is going to get in trouble for this," he says very sternly.

"Oh, it's not her fault. I've only had three drinks. One drink, and I rule the world. Two drinks and I'm yours. Three drinks and I'm a menace to society," I say.

"We'll stick to two, then," he says, flagging down a cab.

He insists on coming in with me, and I can't seem to say no. I can't seem to even get my key in the door and he has to do it for me, so it's just as well he's there.

"Ms Swan, as your personal physician I'll be staying the night, so while I look the other way, you get into your pajamas, or whatever it is you wear to bed."

"You can't stay the night!" I gasp feebly. "This is a _girls_ only dorm!"

"If you don't tell anyone I'm here, I won't either," he says, turning to face away from me. I scramble out of my dress and into the cotton boy shorts and singlet top I wear for sleeping, and I trip up on my own hem, but I only fall on the bed, and he doesn't seem to have heard.

"What are you going to do about using the bathroom?" I inquire, and he shrugs.

"I'll pee like a girl," he says, making me smile. I wonder if there are laws prohibiting snakes from exhibiting kind and helpful behavior, and then being funny and charming, and turning people's previous perceptions of them upside-down, and making their sister's heinous allegations about them seem unfounded.

Is this how he seduces so many girls? In my weakened state, he is nigh on irresistible, and if he made a play for me I'd give as good as I got, and then some.

"Uh, Edward?" I whisper when he comes back from sneaking to the bathroom.

I curl one arm around the back of his neck, and I put the other on his chest. I can finally get a really good look at him, as I've only seen him in subdued lighting before. He certainly stands up to illumination - and if he's not the best-looking man in North America I don't want to see who is because it would kill me.

"Yes, Bella?" he whispers, and his voice is as soft as an angel's sigh.

"You're sleeping in Alice's bed, right?" I say. It turns out I do have a modicum of sense left.

"Damn straight," he smiles, taking my hands away from him.

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	3. Chapter 3

The characters are Stephanie Meyer's, their behavior is mine.

Kissing Instructions

- 3 -

The next morning, or I should say the next lunchtime, when I wake up I find Edward Cullen in my room, so the events of the previous night weren't a delirious alcohol-fuelled dream.

"What are you doing?" I ask, because it looks like he's watching me.

"Watching you," he answers. "I've been watching you for the last hour. You're beautiful."

"You must have me mixed up with someone else," I say, and then I have to stretch, because first thing when you wake up, you stretch.

For a split second I forget he's there, and I raise my arms above my head and push my hands as far to the ceiling as they'll go, tilt my head to the ceiling as well, and arch my back. After the split second I remember I have an audience, and now I discover he's not just looking, he's staring. Arching my back like I just did makes it look as though I'm pushing my breasts out, which I'm not.

"Yoga," I say, immediately hunching over. I'm wearing a skimpy little top, with no bra, and there's a fully grown man four feet away watching me, and we are alone in here together.

"Friday? No holds barred? That was you I made that arrangement with, wasn't it?" I say, and I'm not getting out of bed with him there, because if I remember correctly my sleeping shorts are sort of form-fitting, and they come up to my hips, and my top comes down to my belly button, and there is some flesh that would probably be exposed, like most of it including my entire legs, if I were to get up right now. Last night I was drunk, so he couldn't have seen anything.

"Friday," he agrees, standing up. "Are you going to have any new tricks? Like bringing twenty people and going against the grain of democracy?"

"No. Talent will see me though," I say. "Excuse me for not getting up. I seem to be in my underwear."

"You don't look ridiculous," he says, and I need to revise my idea that when _I_ got drunk, _he_ couldn't see anything.

"Off you go. Goodbye," I say, waving.

When Alice gets in I have to tell her that her brother slept in her bed, and she grimaces and says, "Edward germs? I've got to change the sheets immediately! What was he doing here?"

"I was a bit under the weather last night. He stayed to look after me," I admit.

"Oh, Bella, be careful, won't you? He's not a complete pig, but there have been quite a few women, and they never seem to last long. He really wants to find a girlfriend but he's got to learn to take things a bit slower and get to know someone first instead of rushing straight in and getting disappointed. God, he's never even gone on a proper date! He rang me and was asking after you last week actually, and he tried to pretend it was about the open-mic challenge business, but I thought there might be a bit more to it than that. If he hurts you I'll kill him, and so will Emmett, and probably Jazz too, and then Rose wouldn't want to be left out, so he'll die four grizzly and painful deaths, but it will be too late by then."

I leave her wondering whether to kill him _before_ he gets the chance to hurt me rather than after the fact, and I go to my first lecture.

Come Friday I know more about the wonders of medicine than I did a week ago, and I've discovered a hitherto unsuspected ability - I can put a blockade on a subject of my choosing and bar it from my thoughts. Edward Cullen cannot get into my head.

The friends who came to see me at the Exchange last Friday have all expressed the desire to come again, and I've had to regretfully tell them no.

"My opponent thought I'd cheated by inviting you all," I tell them.

"Which opponent?" Mike asks.

"The defending champion, Edward Cullen," I say.

"Edward? He was sooo hot!" Jessica exclaims. "I nearly had heart stoppage. He's going to be there again tonight?"

"Yes, he is, but honestly, if you guys are there again it'll look like I'm proving his point."

"He sounds like a control freak. He can't tell you who's allowed to come and listen to you sing," Eric frowns.

"Look, if I do it again next week, you can all come along, but just not tonight. How about that?" I suggest. They're not appeased, but they'll go along with it.

I get ready, and tonight I'm not wearing one of the confections Alice chose for me, and I'm not wearing make-up. I'm going to be the real me, ordinary, plain Bella Swan.

My hair is hanging around my face the way it normally is, and I'm in a white t-shirt and jeans, with sneakers.

Alice takes one look and says disapprovingly, "Bella, you are _kidding_ me!"

"No Alice, I'm not. This is what I'm wearing," I insist.

We arrive at the Exchange, and Jasper is there, and to my surprise, so are Emmett and Rosalie.

"So who are you all going to vote for tonight?" I ask them. "Where do your loyalties lie?"

"With you all the way, Bella. _All the way_," Emmett laughs, despite a thump on the arm from Jazz, and a dagger look from Rosalie.

"I will vote for whoever has the best chance of beating Edward," she sniffs.

"Speaking of my darling brother, where is he?" Alice says, peering around.

"Fixing his stupid hair so he looks nice for Bella, of course," Emmett says, and at Alice's raised eyebrow, he continues, "Apparently she said it was messy, and he's been experimenting with a comb all week. He looks freakin' hilarious."

There is general laughter at this, although not from me. Why should Edward care what I think of his hair?

He turns up a few minutes later, to stunned silence. His hair has indeed been subject to a comb, and marginally tamed. He even has a parting. No-one dares say anything, and they all look at me.

"Hello, Edwin," I say, surprised, and Emmett sniggers.

"Dude, that looks like a toupe," he finally bursts out. "Let me adjust it for you."

"Adjust my hair and I'll adjust your face," Edward says, and he takes my arm and pulls me towards the back of the room.

"Been practicing?" he asks.

I shrug. "I don't need to. In my spare time I'm an internationally renowned maestro and I'm the lead soloist in a flamenco group, La Traviata. Perhaps you've heard of us?"

"A flamenco group named after an Italian opera? No, I haven't, oddly enough," he says. I want to mess his hair up.

"Edward, stand still, I think you have nits," I say, as though you could see a nit in this pit of darkness. You couldn't see a _giant_ nit and its identical twin.

"What?" he asks and I've reached up and put my hand in his hair, ruffling it about a bit.

"No, it's okay, you don't, it was just a trick of the light," I tell him. "You're not going to adjust my face are you?"

"No, you don't need it. I've told you, you're beautiful," he says softly. _This_ _is_ how he seduces girls. He stands there all tall and deep-voiced and stares, and he says lovely, though not strictly true things to them, and they melt and go home with him, and then he exchanges them the next week.

"Gird your loins, Bella, you're about to be beaten," he says then.

"We'll see, but I don't go down easily," I respond, and as his expression intensifies into a frown, the double meaning of what I've just said occurs to me. I feel bright scarlet heat spread through my cheeks, and he looks disturbed, as though he's aware of it and it affects him. I brush past him, and he lets me go.

Of the three of us, Jasper is up first, and the ease with which he performs is his greatest strength. He radiates such a warmth I almost feel manipulated by it, but of course, he can't manipulate other people's feelings, he's just hugely charismatic.

Edward gets up then, and does his angsty thing, with his eyes closed, and his mumbling delivery. Jasper's songs dance on the air, and you want to play with them. Edward's lie as thick and heavy as a blanket of passion and need and you feel every note like a knife, as though he's giving his all.

What do people feel when they hear mine? I like to think my songs are about receptivity and wisdom and character, and they make people feel reflective. I feel reflective when I write and perform them. I'm applauded heartily, especially by Emmett, who makes enough noise for ten people, and then the votes are counted.

"Are you on your second vodka, Ms Flamenco Queen?" Edward leans over and says to me, while we wait for the judgement.

"No, my first," I nod pleasantly back.

When the winner is announced, it's Jasper. Emmett manages to look pleased and disappointed at the same time, Alice squeals and jumps straight onto Jasper's lap, and Edward and I eye one another darkly.

"You have to kiss him now, you know," we say to each other at the same time, and Alice extricates herself long enough to give us a questioning look.

Then Edward takes my hand again, and pulls me to the back of the room. We sure seem to spend a lot of time down there.

"I want to talk to you about a previous conversation," he says.

"Everything you say seems to be about a previous conversation," I say.

"Well, I've been conducting my own informal survey about kissing, and my findings pretty much bear out what you were saying," he begins.

"How many in your sample?" I ask him.

"Several dozen," he says.

"You kissed several dozen men and women this week?" I ask in astonishment.

He starts to laugh.

"No, I _spoke_ to them," he says. "I did a bit of research, too. Did you know that women have 34 nerve fibers per square inch of their facial skin, and men only have 17?"

No, I didn't know that, because I made up nearly everything I said because I was being a smartass. "Of course," I say.

"And all the girls I spoke to agreed that kissing is a doorway to sexual arousal, and they like men to let things build up, not just go straight for the main goal. If a man used too much tongue to start with, they felt put off."

"Uh-huh," I say. He's just said 'tongue' and under the circumstances I can't be expected to come up with a considered intellectual and academic response.

"They also said that kissing is a very pleasurable and intimate act on its own, and doesn't need to be a preliminary for sex."

"Ah-hah." He said 'sex'. If there's an appropriate reply, I'm incapable of it.

"I asked them if they think men are trainable, and their answers were pretty evenly spilt - some did, some didn't," he says. "They thought it depended on whether or not the men were worth it. Do you want that second vodka yet?"

"Are you referring to a previous conversation?" I say. He seems to keep looking at my mouth.

"Maybe," he says.

"I think I'll skip the second and go straight to the third, if you don't mind," I say.

"I do mind. I want you to have the second," he smiles, and he's still looking at my mouth. "Do _you_ think men are trainable?"

"Some are, some aren't."

"I'll be back with your _second_ drink before you notice I've gone. Wait right here. Oh, actually, you're far too beautiful to be left on your own in a place like this, you'd better come with me," he says, smirking.

God, he's good-looking, but it's not just that. I like that he seems to have remembered everything I've ever said, and I like that he'll tease me gently with my own words. Of course he's very intelligent, because you don't pass your MCATs if you're not, but he's not just intelligent, he's smart.

And he seems to possess some sort of half of my brain. We seem to be an absolute match. Of course, this could just be how he seduces girls, by being exactly, perfectly, mentally matched with them, and then his incredible handsomeness acts as the icing on the cake. Or it's the other way around - handsome first, mental matching second - they both work. And why does he keep saying I'm beautiful?

"About men being trainable," he continues, handing me the drink. "Do you think _I_ might be trainable?"

"How would I know?" I say, taking a mouthful. I will be a menace to society within minutes.

"Do you think I might be worth it?" he says.

"Again, how would I know? You seem to think you're a perfectly good kisser already."

He takes my drink from me, ignoring my yelp of protest, and says seriously, "You know I have a reputation?"

"No, I have no idea about your reputation, or whether or not you deserve it, or even who would say such scurrilous things about you and why."

"It's said that I have a lot of girlfriends, and none of them last very long, and I bring them here and swap them for someone else."

"Oh, you're _that_ Edward Cullen. May I have my drink back please?" I grab it, and swallow the lot, quickly. May I have my heart back please, as well, while you're at it? I've parted company with my good sense too. Did I drop it somewhere on the floor in this poorly lit place? I start looking down.

"Bella, I'm not denying what's been said about me, but I learned a lot conducting my little survey this week. I learned I need to think a bit more carefully about what I want before I make the wrong moves on the wrong girls," he says.

I look back up again. What's he talking about? His lovely eyes, which I now know are an unusual golden color, are very serious and his brows are drawn together in concentration, and he is almost frowning as he speaks. This isn't referring to a previous conversation, it's all new.

I pick up my empty glass, because if I don't have something in my hands I might touch his hair again. He sighs, and puts a hand up, and messes his hair anyway.

"I've been doing everything wrong, and I've kind of figured that out now, and if you think I'm trainable, and I'm worth it, I'd like you be my instructor," he says.

"What sort of instructor? A kissing instructor?" I ask weakly. "I don't know if you need one. What do all your girlfriends think? You said you've never had any complaints."

"None of them are here now, are they?" he points out. "That's either because they didn't want me or I didn't want them."

"Okay, maybe you could do with a few pointers," I say. Where is Alice? Will anybody rescue me from this difficult situation? And hey, if I'm so beautiful why didn't he try anything when he stayed in my room?

We're still down the back, I'm sneaking looks at his luscious mouth and trying not to be caught, and I know I'm in trouble.

"I could make you the best kisser in the State pretty easily, always provided you're willing, but what's in it for me?" I ask him.

"Oh, I'm willing. And you get to kiss the best kisser in the State," he grins. With every grin from him, every stare, and every frown, I know I'm getting in deeper.

"Everyone I kiss becomes the best kisser in the State," I say, and his grin disappears _damn_ fast.

"Edward, I'll tell you right now I don't even know why we're having this little tête-à-tête. It's fascinating, of course, but I'm going to go home. And just so we're clear, last time I had my boy-deflector shield in for a routine check its integrity was uncompromised, so you know what that means."

Now he looks sadder than a puppy that just got told it's not going for a walk today.

"Oh…okay then. I'll see you back to your dorm since Alice will probably be going with Jazz again, I'm sorry if I've offended you, I didn't mean to cross any lines..." he says, and he actually sounds and looks miserable.

I don't know what to believe, what he was just saying about reviewing his own actions and motivation sounded sincere. It sounded as though he'd been reflective. Hmm. And then I think about the way I felt when he sang, about feeling his need to give, and to be taken and accepted.

I think all the time, I probably over think, but suddenly I feel cogs in motion really, really deep, so far down in my brain that they're coming up from the neural tube, from places inside me that have never truly thought before, places that don't use words, but only feel. I stare at him, because something inside me wants him, and it's not to do with what he looks like or even what he says, it's somehow what he _is_.

How could I know what he is in four meetings?

He catches the look and doesn't say anything and we say our goodnights to everyone else and get to the door. Everything has changed. We walk, not touching, until we get to the Students Hall Of Residence.

"Ah, Bella, just one more thing," he says as I'm fishing around for my key, "Can I refer to a previous conversation?"

"Maybe," I say.

"You know, despite whatever pretending you want to hide behind, you had two drinks tonight."

"No, three," I say. "A first and a third."

"Look, you _are_ a menace to society, but you had two drinks. I think you know what I'm getting at." He pushes a hand into his hair, and faces me.

"No, I don't. You tell me," I say.

"You're mine," he says huskily. He steps to me, and bends his head until our foreheads touch. "You said you're mine," he whispers.

"I need an eleven second kiss first," I say. I said what?

"Do you know, Bella Swan, I've never given a second's thought to the technicalities, or the implications, or the subtleties of kissing until you launched your little discourse at me? You can have your eleven seconds, you can have anything you want, I'll kiss you all over, and I'll find all your nerve receptors. I feel like I've waited a hundred years for you," he says.

We're on the street, and I could jump him right here, or we could go in to my room. We go in to my room.

"Which side of the door do you want to be on when I close it?" I ask him.

"Same side as you. Preferably the inside," he says, and this time I manage the key all by myself, and I feel like a smuggler, going in there after hours with a _boy_.

But then as soon as we're in there, I'm scared and upset. I don't just want to be this week's girl, but I really, really want to kiss him.

"Why are you here?" I ask him as he towers over me.

"I told you, Bella. I've made the wrong moves on the wrong girls. Now I want to make the right moves on the right girl."

"Good luck finding her," I say.

"I already have. She's you," he whispers. He sits on my bed and pulls me with him, lacing his fingers with mine. After I've looked down at our hands for a bit, I look nervously back up at him and swallow.

"Bella? What do you want to do now?" he murmurs.

I know perfectly well, although I don't want to sound too keen and desperate, so I pretend to think about it. "Uh, osculate?" I offer finally.

We're sitting facing each other and the tension is incredible. Our faces are inches apart, and as his gaze moves between my eyes and my lips, at first he's smiling, but his smile disappears as we move slowly closer to one another and I am drawing myself up on my knees to get nearer still, and he seems to lean back, but he is inviting me to get closer.

Our faces touch, so slowly, our noses, and the prominent parts of our cheeks, as we are almost nuzzling, and my lips are part as I breathe him in, tasting the scent of his open mouth, and our lips touch, very lightly. My eyes are closed; I have abandoned the sense of sight in favor of smell and taste, and touch, and even hearing, as it is quiet in the room but for the sound of our already uneven breathing.

Our mouths brush lightly together again, as we both inhale each other's scents, and exhale with sighs. I have leaned forward now, and he seems the more hesitant of us, or perhaps he is _wanting_ me to take him, as he has already said what he wants, and I haven't.

On my knees as I am, I am actually above him, and he raises his head to me and he meets me. We are finally joined, awash with sensation as his mouth moves against mine. This sort of kissing isn't something I have ever felt before. It causes a shock all the way through me, licking along my arms like fire, and sending shooting stars curving down the insides of my legs, culminating in flashes in the insteps of my feet. I can't bear for it to end, but if it ends, we can start again. I'm cold, and I whimper when he pulls abruptly away.

"Edward?" I say, lost and wanting him back.

"Eleven seconds," he answers unsteadily, but it's not really an answer, because in his eyes is another question, asking if he can have more.

"_At least_," I say. "There was an unspoken 'at least' in there. You really need to give me a little longer." Right now, I'd be happy to give him eleven lifetimes. He comes back, and I'm very, very greedy and he doesn't need an instructor, because nobody on earth would dump him for the way he kisses.

This time he doesn't pull back, he rises on his knees with a hand in my hair and a hand on my hip, pushing me down into the pillow, his lips still soft, but growing more urgent. We've both forgotten to breathe, and we break apart to stare at each other.

"You can't possibly have been doing anything wrong with all those other girls," I say, heart racing.

"No?" he murmurs.

"_No_." I shake my head against him, and press my lips to his throat. I'm going to bite him.

"I never kissed any other girls like this, ever," he says, and gasps as he feels my teeth.

But then he is sitting up, standing up, moving to the door.

"Are you leaving?" I ask in disbelief.

"This is a girls only dorm," he reminds me. "Sleep well, beautiful Bella. How about a date next week? The Exchange? No holds barred? If either of us wins, the other has to kiss them?"

"Damn straight," I say.

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End file.
